Independence Day

There is just something about fireworks. For some the feeling begins when they think about the hard-earned freedom fireworks symbolize in our country, that hard knot of pride in their chests that reminds them that we are Americans, despite anything and everything that happens to us. And I hope, as it is for me, the feeling is also one of immense gratitude toward the men and women who ensure that freedom, both here at home and overseas.


Yes, there is just something about fireworks. Just the anticipation of their beginning has us repeatedly glancing at our watches excitement. Then we finally hear the whoosh of a firework being launched, and we brace ourselves, knowing that something brilliant is about to erupt. I'd have to guess that it's one of the few things in life anymore that can truly stop us in our tracks, compelling us to gaze upward.


But I'm not watching the fireworks. I'm watching your faces. The sea of unadulterated smiles that swells as your world blazes with color. That look of pure joy. That's all the fireworks I need.

ghee

If it's possible to smile throughout your entire body, then that's what I'm doing. I think back to where I was a year ago today, two years ago, five years ago, and although I wouldn't change a thing, I've never been so keenly aware and appreciative of where I am right now. Everything is just as it should be, and I feel like the whole world reached out and hugged me today to remind me that things are going to be okay, amazing even.

Happy birthday to me.

Tales of a Smelly Lunchroom

The other day I was waiting in the lunch line at school with a class of first graders when I felt a little hand start to rub my arm. Now for those who don't know (and why in the world would you know this?), I'm very self-conscious about my arm hair. I have quite a bit of it. And it's dark. Sort of like a gorilla. Anyway, this little boy looked up at me, still rubbing my arm, and said, "You are so fuzzy. Just like my dad." Wonderful.

I stopped in the cafeteria during lunch to tell a student that I'd missed him in school the last few days that he had been out sick. "Was it a cold?" I asked, about to tell him that I'd recently had one too.

"It's a secret," he said, beckoning me closer.

Why I leaned forward to listen is beyond me. I never should have asked.

"I had diarrhea. Real bad," he said seriously.

Earlier this month, I was standing in the lunch line with some fifth grade boys, and one became wide-eyed when I reached for a turkey sandwich.

"I thought you were a vegetarian!" he gasped.

"Nope," I replied. "How come you thought so?"

He still looked as if in disbelief. "I just always thought so. You look like you would be."

"How so?"

"Your face shape. Your face is shaped like a vegetarian," he said.

"Hmm, good point. Maybe I'll consider converting," I said as I walked away to devour my poultry.

I was walking though the cafeteria one day and was summoned by an excited first grader. "Guess what?" he said. Before I could guess, he blurted out, "My big sister got her period!"

"Uh, good for her . . .?" I said. Then I added, "How about we keep that private and let her break the news to others?"

All Right

When a few people asked me why I don't blog anymore, I really didn't have an answer ready. I guess in hindsight I can admit what I wasn't able to at the time: I was incredibly unhappy. Some people do their best writing when sad or distressed, but not this girl. The words just don't come.

I'm finally at a place where I'm starting to feel confident and at ease again in my own shoes. I'm not as on edge, wondering when someone is going to walk in and rip the rug right out from under my feet. Welcome back to solid ground.

It took much, much longer than I anticipated to get here, and I also think it meant waiting for the right person to come into my life. And whoever said you need to hit rock bottom before being able to fully appreciate the top was really onto something. I know there's no map, no promises, no guarantees, but I think I just might have found something incredibly precious. And I'm happy.

Hello

Hello old neglected friend! My how I have avoided you over the last year. But I have an excuse. Well, several. Things sort of fell apart, I had to start over, I'm learning how to live on my own, and I needed to find the courage to let myself feel happy again.

So here I am, back but undoubtedly changed. It has taken me a long while to come to the realization that I can never go back to being the "old me." In the course of everything that transpired, all the tears that were shed, the new quests, the risks taken, the heart given, I cannot possibly still be the same girl I was before this was all set in motion. I'd like to think I'm more brave than she was, more determined, even in the face of criticism and loneliness, to find my true path. But yet maybe a little more foolish too. I'm still "me," but a slightly less naive, more cautious me than I was before, but also a hopeful me that prays I will one day shed the shackles of guilt and let myself move toward the beautiful life.

What I have learned:

*Houses and "things,"e.g. throw pillows and wall art, may look beautiful but aren't true companions

*Once you close a familiar door, the person on the other side might never try to step through it again

*The loving friendship among girls is sacred

*Time does not always heal

*Courage and willingness to love can introduce you to beautiful new people

*I will be fine, great even

Who Knows?

Ok New Year's Resolutions for 2011:

Be courageous

Learn to like mushrooms

Go zip--lining

Stop judging myself so harshly

Volunteer

Exercise regularly

Plant in my backyard

Take post-grad classes

Eat healthier

Get a summer job

Travel (cheaply of course)

new year

What will it bring?

The past few weeks have been undoubtedly the hardest of my life, but they have illuminated what I already know: I am lucky indeed to have so many deeply wonderful, caring people in my life.

Here's to looking forward and not back. Here's to going through the very lows to reach the highs. Here's to figuring it all out.

Here's to courage.